


Frog Launching

by mapleandmahogany



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Drama, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-03
Updated: 2007-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 17:12:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10813290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mapleandmahogany/pseuds/mapleandmahogany
Summary: Harry explains his first intimate encounters ... with Ron.





	Frog Launching

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes:

‘Frog launching’ inspired by the comedy of Dane Cook. Beta and encouraging _squee_ provided by [](http://gwen1170.livejournal.com/profile)[**gwen1170**](http://gwen1170.livejournal.com/) and [](http://shocolate.livejournal.com/profile)[**shocolate**](http://shocolate.livejournal.com/).  
[](http://shocolate.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://shocolate.livejournal.com/) **shocolate** reckons I should include a genital description disclaimer. Harry Potter is a short, skinny young man, as is Daniel Radcliffe, that's just good casting. The fact that I have seen Equus has no bearing on my writing. ... None at all.

* * *

~^~

You’d think it would have worked out real nice between us, right?

It turned out that Ron was queer and so was I. This became obvious when we found ourselves mutually ogling Fleur’s cousin Sebastien. He was gorgeous, and if Ron had tripped over himself when he first met Fleur, it was nothing to how he gawped at the sandy haired young man, with narrow hips and delicate biceps and long fingers and-

Okay, so Ron wasn’t the only one who tripped over himself. I thought he was gorgeous too. And apparently Sebastien had also noticed me, noticing him and he cornered me in Bill’s parlor one night after a supper. If there had ever been any doubt about what I really preferred, being pressed up between the china hutch and the wall was enough to make me figure it out.

“Hey, Harry, you find anymore biscuits?” Ron was asking when he walked in the room, interrupting what was happening with Sebastien.

“Oh shite, sorry!” Ron apologized with an embarrassed smile and fairly ran out of the room. I untangled myself from Sebastien and followed him trying to explain.

But it wasn’t necessary. He understood.

So when we came out, _came out_ , to the family, to Ron’s family, they flailed and wailed and hugged us and said they always knew he and I belonged together.

That was the embarrassing part, because then we had to explain that we weren’t _together_ , we were both just, gay. Both of us, but not together.

I mean honestly, what did they expect from us? _‘You’re gay? Cheers! I’m gay, too! Let’s frolic in bed together!’_

Right. Not quite.

He and I agreed that it was a coincidence that we both liked blokes but it didn’t mean anything as far as ‘we’ went. But it did actually make us better friends, cause then we could be honest about it when we checked out an arse or a snoggable set of lips.

There was an obvious difference though, because while I was happy to admire lips and arses from afar, Ron actually dated them. Well, the blokes attached to the lips and arses.

Which was great and I was happy for my best mate – _not really_ – but I was, yes. Very happy.

And me? When I met people, it was, “Zomgodric! You’re Harry Potter!” Which I’m sure would have got me laid, but that’s honestly not what you want to hear because … I’d never been naked in front of anyone before.

Not _hard_ and naked, anyway. And I had been hard and naked in front of myself in the mirror and I knew the real me wasn’t impressive enough to live up to the legendary wizard reputation that people had of me. I already heard _he’s shorter than I expected him to be_ more times than I cared to. Let’s face it, I’m short and I’m skinny; nothing on me is particularly … big. I really didn’t think I could survive hearing, _it’s shorter than I expected it to be_ after seeing my cock!

So most of a year past and Ron and I both worked and Ron and I had a flat together, and Ron had a different boyfriend every two weeks and I _didn’t_.

Life worked well like that, except maybe sucking a little bit for me, until Ron broke up with a boyfriend that had lasted _three_ weeks this time.

“Why can’t I find anyone to be with?” Ron complained, sitting at the table, nursing a cider.

“I think you’ve actually found plenty of people to be with,” I said. I didn’t want to sound jealous. How could I be jealous of them when I was the one standing here massaging his shoulders? … What more could I want?

“Why can’t I find someone who wants to be friends with me, too? Someone who understands Quidditch, and someone to go flying with and someone to do Frog Launching with?”

I tried not to snort while he was being a sap.

Frog Launching? That was a game that involved boinging a Chocolate Frog off the tip of your erection and launching it into your mouth.

I know, don’t ask, there was a lot of Firewhisky. Anyway …

“No one deserves you,” I said, leaning down and hugging him around the neck. We hugged more now, because the whole pretending to be weirded out about hugging your mate wasn’t an issue anymore.

“Why can’t I find somebody like you?” he murmured, pressing his cheek against mine, leaning back into my hug.

“You already found me.”

That sounded more suggestive than I meant it really. I did want him, of course. _Of course_. But I knew he wanted the sex stuff he got from the two-week blokes, and I was more the Quidditch and Frog Launching type.

“You’re right, Harry. I have found you, haven’t I?”

He looked at me with emotional, watery eyes and his lips were dangerously close to mine. My hands were still around his neck, feeling his heart begin to pound under my palm. His hair was so soft on my cheek.

And we kissed.

Well he kissed me, I couldn’t breathe, let alone move. It was a slow, pressing, testing the softness of each other’s lips, and licking with the tips of our tongues just to taste each other, kind of kiss.

He pulled on my hand so that I walked around his chair and he pulled me onto his lap and -

And that was it.

Okay, _no_. There was actually a lot of kissing and back rubbing and neck nuzzling while I sat straddled in his lap.

_Lots_. And it was nice. No, it was fucking fantastic.

Ron loved me. I knew he did and I sure as hell loved him but saying the words would take a little longer to say.

Well what did you expect; frantic shirt ripping, needy groping, with bruised lips and frotting on the kitchen table right then?

Yeah. Not quite.

We still went to work and talked about Quidditch only now there was kissing and back rubbing in the middle of it all.

Maybe a little pelvic thrusting too, but that was all on Ron’s part. The first time he pelvic-thrusted me I choked on our spit and had hiccoughs for the rest of the day.

The next morning in front of the kitchen sink it happened again.

“You smell good fresh out of the shower,” Ron said, wrapping his arms around my waist, burying his nose in my hair. He felt so good that I turned and kissed him back and then he pelvic-thrusted against me again and I jumped, mashing his lip with my teeth making him bleed.

“Fuck,” he grumbled, pinching his bleeding lip and giving me a wistful look. “You’re jumpy today.”

“I’m sorry, Ron,” I whined. I healed his lip and kissed him quick and practically dived into the Floo to work.

I still can’t believe I did that. But he’s so persistent, he didn’t give up no matter what I did.

That day I spent devising ways to avoid a repeat of my inevitable humiliation when I went home to Ron again and he’d want to get close. … The thought of getting close had its merit, of course, and I didn’t know much about sex but I’m pretty certain having a panic attack whenever genitals got involved was not gonna be a turn on.

So, I did what I do best when I’m agitated; I behaved like an arse. I avoided him and acted moody and gave him short answers all evening. After exhaustively trying to be nice to me, my sodding plan succeeded.

Ron just gaped at me with hurt and confused eyes, before shaking his head and turning to leave.

I was shouting at myself on the inside, _I didn’t mean it! Don’t go!_ but my falsely _Imperiused_ tongue wouldn’t cooperate.

Ron stopped mid-step, and faced me again with a scowl. He took rapid steps towards me and I braced my jaw and tensed my neck expecting a good punch, knowing I deserved it.

But when his hands flew in front of my face, it wasn’t to strike me. Instead he grabbed me and crushed me in something between a Hagrid-like embrace and Charlie-like chokehold. I tried to push him away but he only squeezed me tighter and stood up to his full height, which stretched me up onto my toes.

“Now you listen to me, Potter,” he said deeply. I could feel his breath through my hair and the rumble of frustration in his voice against my ear. “You can be a dickhead all you want to be, but you can’t make me leave. I’m not going anywhere, you hear me?”

I nodded furiously against his chest, his arm held me so tight my head barely moved.

“Sorry,” I muffled into his jumper-covered bicep. His hold on me lessened into something more gentle and I felt his hand smooth up my shoulder and into my hair where his lips had begun pressing lightly against my head.

“I … I do love you. You know that right?”

“… I do.”

Then I realized, for about the hundred and seventy-third time in my life, that I wasn’t the only one afraid of being hurt here.

I suddenly needed to see him. I needed him not to waste those kisses on my head and had to feel them on my lips. I needed him to know that it really was _me_ and not _him_.

His eyes were still worried and angry when I looked up, but whatever he saw in my face made him smile. It softened me a little for him give me that look, and not because I had made a cool Quidditch move or performed magic, but all I did was look at him. That’s when I started to think, to hope, that maybe I really could trust this. That maybe my buggering shite-faced uncle’s remarks about how unnatural it was for blokes to be together weren’t true.

Because nothing about that face, that smile, those eyes could ever be unnatural or “wrong.”

I stretched up and he met me half way.

The kiss was sweet enough to begin with. He was still trying to be loving and tender but all I wanted to do was get this sick feeling out of my stomach for some reason, kissing Ron seemed like the thing to make everything better again. I knew he - _we_ could make this work.

“I want to be better at this,” I said, through quick and lusty kisses.

Ron giggle-gasped through his puckered lips, which came out sounding a bit snorty. “You already _are_.”

Shortly after he suggested we get more comfortable. I was brushing my teeth before bed when he meandered into my room, blushing slightly, scratching the inside of his elbow.

“Would it be okay if I slept in here?” he asked, sounding a bit hesitant.

I was completely freaking out by what he might _want_ , but he was beautiful standing there in nothing but plain white underpants that could only looked sexy on him.

“Course,” I answered, in spite of the conflict within me.

He beamed and bounded onto the bed like a shaggy pup, not yet full grown, with arms and legs that he hadn’t grown into yet. I stood for a moment with toothpaste foaming up in my mouth while he kicked back the blankets and tucked a pillow behind his head and stretched out his long legs, curling his toes. Making himself comfortable in my bed for the night.

“Yoo yookgleh,” I slurred, forgetting how full my mouth was. He chuckled while I spit and rinsed.

“What was that?” he asked.

“I said, you look great,” I answered him as I came back into the room putting on a sweatshirt.

He squirmed the tiniest bit at the compliment, making his stomach muscles pop out. I enjoyed the view while I pulled on a pair of socks.

“You’re, kinda, wearing a lot of clothes,” he said, giving me an odd look. I hadn’t really been thinking about it, but as soon as he started undressing for bed, I had been adding more on.

“I get cold, you know that,” I said, sharply and _Noxed_ the lights, leaving us in complete darkness, so I wouldn’t have to see the look on his face. I put my glasses down and climbed into bed with my back to him, pulling the blankets up to my neck.

“What are you doing?” I asked him hurriedly when I felt him shift behind me.

“Well … I thought I’d give you a bit of bloody cuddle, if that’s okay with you?” he said. He sounded defensively annoyed and I was starting to feel like a shit again.

I couldn’t understand what was wrong with me.

“Yeah, sorry.” I laughed it off, embarrassed for acting like such a panicky idiot. Thank god for the darkness hiding my face. “Sure it’s okay.”

He slid up behind me and his warm breath against the back of my head felt good. It felt right and safe to be nestled back against Ron, but I was just certain he’d want to start doing _stuff_ , and I had to say ‘ _stuff_ ’ because unless I’m cursing I just don’t say those kinds of words. My heart was pounding and I was beginning to breathe with effort just waiting to feel his hands drift into _places_ , but there was no downward drifting at all. Instead, he held the hand I had clenched against my chest.

“If I get too heavy just shove me over, yeah?” Ron murmured.

“No problem,” I managed to say with a hard swallow.

“Love you, Harry. ‘Night.” Then he sighed and I felt his weight settle heavily into the mattress behind me. He was nodding off to sleep, _in my bed_ , and he wasn’t expecting ‘anything’ in return.

He deserved more, and from someone who knew how to give it to him.

“Love you, too,” I whispered.

That much I could give him. … I _wanted_ to give him more right then, but I just couldn’t.

We’d been a couple for about a week by then. We lived together, and we slept together in my bed, and we kissed and held each other. The fact that we hadn’t fooled around beyond that was becoming painfully obvious, as obvious as the hardness in his trousers that poked against me when we kissed. He never pelvic thrusted me though.

I was telling him about an article I had read about the next big thing in broomstick twigs while we turned down the covers for bed that night and I was so rapt up in conversation and laughing with him that I didn’t notice that I forgotten to put on my protective layer of clothing and I climbed into bed in only my shorts.

It must have looked like the first open invitation I’d given him since that night I straddled his lap in the kitchen, and when he leaned over me to kiss me, his hand settled on my stomach. I felt my skin quiver under his touch and my lips tense under his kiss. Ron pulled back only a little, nudging my nose with his freckled one, a glint of a lusty smile in his eyes, before his lips touched mine again.

The room was audibly silent after being full of our laughs and talk a moment ago and brought full focus on what we were doing.

His lips were soft, but the kiss was strong and sure. I’ve seen him lick brown sauce off the end of his chin with that long tongue of his so I know he could have suffocated me with it if he wanted to, but instead he slid his tongue gently against mine, even if the rhythm between our mouths was increasing.

Then his hand started moving in circles over my stomach; fingers sliding through the hair below my navel, adding a slight scuffing sound to the tiny smacks and gasps of our kissing. I felt the circles begin to test lower and lower, first over my waistband, then his hand ran over my hip and down to that ticklish concave at the juncture of my thigh.

“Harry?” his whisper questioned as the pad of his middle finger pressed along the crease of my thigh, cautiously running along the base of my sac. He was asking, and waiting for some sign.

“YesHmmMm,” was my general response. I reached into his hair and pressed my groin into his hand, which he splayed, cupping and pressing against me. I was half hard to begin with, but I sprang under his hand and which made him smile in our kiss.

The arousal pulsed from under Ron’s hand out and out my limbs. My heart was pounding in my ears and I was losing breath from kissing him so hard. Ron shifted closer, leaning over me as, pressing his hips against my thigh and his hands were on me and somehow the pressure that had started out feeling so exhilarating was just too much. I was falling and scrabbling for purchase anywhere. Whether pushing or pulling, I still don’t know which, but everything was going gray around the edges and I don’t know if my eyes were open or shut but there was more fear here than should be.

“Harry, what is it?” Ron’s voice seemed to from further away than I expected. “Are you hearing me, Harry? Open your eyes.”

So at least I knew that my eyes were shut then, that explained the darkness.

“Ron?” I opened my eyes and the light started coming back slowly. “I need my glasses.”

“…You’re still wearing your glasses, mate. … Just give it a minute.”

_Fuck all_. I’d done it again.

As my vision cleared and the rushing in my ears quieted, Ron came into view again. I realized I was sitting back against the headboard and I hated to think that I must have scrambled backwards out from under him.

It was so quiet in the room then. I felt the nervousness twitching in my palms but utter humiliation was rapidly taking over instead.

I grabbed a pillow and hugged it in front me.

“I’m sorry,” I said. I wasn’t sure for what exactly, but I knew it was my fault.

“No need to be sorry,” he said quietly. His shoulders and head were slumping forward at the same angle and I recognized his posture of dejection. “What is it?” he asked. “Do I need breath freshening charm? Want me to spell the hair off my chest?”

“What? _No_!” I knew he was trying to mask a more serious question underneath sarcasm.

“Is this just too weird for you, then? Me and you? We used to say we were like brothers – is that what you feel like? You’re getting off with your brother?”

I’m such a shit! To see the concern in his eyes. To see him struggling to find the words that would reach me.

“I don’t know what wrong with me. But it’s _me_ not _you_.”

Ron snorted and rolled his eyes and I had to crack a bit of smile too. It was an accidental cliché, however true it was.

“I uh, I know that you’re a … that you haven’t been with many people before,” Ron started slowly, a healthy shade of red started up his neck. “But this seems like more than just first time jitters. I was pretty nervous my first time too, but I was keen enough to get on with it.”

“I know. You told me.” I’d never be able to look at Terry Boot again.

“So have you changed your mind? You not fancy blokes after all? Or is it just me you don’t fancy?” He was picking at a snag on the bedsheet and I felt like I was responsible for his happiness or heartbreak right now.

“It’s not that at all. I definitely, without a doubt, with absolute certainty like blokes. Particularly long, gingery ones.”

A tiny smile curled in the corner of his lip and I wanted to kiss it, but he didn’t look truly amused.

“Okay, then. …” More awkward silence.

I realized then, that a silence while you’re half naked in bed with someone you love is a lot worse than silence while you’re dressed in the kitchen and I was getting angrier with myself every second.

“I never asked you this before,” Ron continued, “cause I really didn’t want to know, but maybe we should talk about it now.”

“Talk about what now?” I asked warily.

“About Ginny.”

“Oh.”

“How, how much did you do with her?” he asked.

“You really want to know? _Now_?” Seemed a little strange to ask while we were still in bed together, but he scrunched his nose and resolutely nodded, so I started. “Well, there was kissing, and, and Itouchedherbreastonce but that was all, I swear.”

Ron scrunched his shoulder a bit, but handled it pretty well really. “And did you like it?”

Now here I felt like I was being asked to either insult his sister or insult him, which highlighted the fact that I was now dating my ex-girlfriend’s brother, which also made me realize just how fucked up this situation was and it really couldn’t get much worse.

“She was okay I guess, but I knew I didn’t like it like I should.”

“Fair enough,” he answered. I thought it was kind of cool he was letting me talk to him about it without punching me in the nose. “And then after Ginny, there was no one until Sebastien, right?

“Right. -And not really much to tell there.”

“Ah, come on, we’d been admiring the arse on him for at least a week when I walked in on you,” he teased. “It looked like plenty to me. _Spill_.”

I really did _not_ want to talk about it, but for some inexplicable reason, maybe just the power that Ron has over me, I started telling him anyway.

“Everyone had all gone into the lounge after supper, remember? I went back to look for some extra biscuits. Sebastian had followed me, asking if I had found what I was looking for yet, told me he could help me.” Ron nodded, smiling. “Sebastien moved in on me and I was really excited at first cause it was _him_ , you know?” I looked to check Ron’s reaction and it surprised me how amused he looked. Maybe, I thought, even a little turned on. “He had me back against the wall so fast.”

“Did you like that? Him having you against the wall? That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Yeah, it was brilliant. He kissed better than anyone had ever kissed me before, and he smelled good and tasted good.”

“Okay, loads of great snogging, I get it, but there was more than swapping spit going on when I walked in.”

I laughed a little, feeling my face get warm.

“Yeah, well, yeah. He kept saying and doing, stuff.”

“Like _what_? Come on, out with, Potter,” he needled me.

There was creeping cold feeling in my stomach and I started feeling itchy everywhere.

“It was all just good stuff, like, like feeling him up against me, pressing into me. He was saying how he knew what I really wanted, that he wanted to show me things I’d never known before, and,” I cleared my throat a little and blushed even worse, “and said that he wanted to be inside of me. His hands were everywhere, reaching under my robes and I did like it … no, actually, I didn’t really. Well, _yes_ , I liked it at first, but then it was _too much_. He was talking constantly in my ear and he wouldn’t stop kissing long enough for me to breath and I was in a corner and I couldn’t move. There was a part of me that really liked it, I wanted what he was doing, but I was starting to panic too, and-”

I had to stop and take a breath and I realized that I was shaking and squeezing the pillow against my body. I looked at Ron again and he was very serious. His eyes were darker and the muscle along his jaw was clenching over and over again.

He looked angry.

“Sorry,” I said breathlessly. “I thought you wanted to know.”

“I did, and quit being sorry. So, he really said those things, Harry? The, _I know what you really want_ and _I can show you things you’ve never known before_?”

I nodded, remember the sexy French voice whispering in my ears and his hands touching me in places I had never felt hands that weren’t my own, but I also felt a ripple of cold cross me as well.

Ron sighed heavily and rubbed his face and rolled his head around, causing his neck to crack.

“You don’t remember, do you?” he asked. I had no idea what he was talking about and told him so. “Well, Voldemort said _that_ to you at the end, remember? He said he knew what you really wanted and he sort of _was_ inside of you, in a manner of speaking, in your head, trying to get inside your body with an Imperus Curse.”

Huh, I thought it had felt familiar. “You remember that?”

“I watched him torment you for years, Harry, I’m not likely to forget.”

It was all true. It had started well enough with Sebastien. I’d been thinking of things I wanted to do with him for a whole week and then I found myself thrusting against him and it was perfect. For just a moment it was all incredibly sexy, and knew that _this_ , with a man, was right for me, but almost as quick as it started, I felt suffocated. Thoughts of being taken against my will, having my body invaded flooded my thoughts and-

“Damn him!” I shouted when it all clicked in my head. “Fucking Voldemort is dead now and he’s still messing up my life!”

“Nah – you just got all the sex stuff, which is _good_ , mixed up with the, the body-invasion stuff, which is _bad_. It’s not the same, you know?” Shifting closer to me, he reached out to touch my ankle, running a circle around the bone.

“I know. I just, get this sick feeling when someone touches me.”

“Right.” Ron nodded thoughtfully, and pulled his hand away, making me feel worse. But he continued. “Well, how do you feel about touching someone else?”

“Huh?” I wasn’t sure if he was really trying to insinuate what I thought he was until he gave me that grin of his.

“I am talking about _me_ of course.”

“Oh.” I said quietly, looking him over. There was so much of him to touch, legs and arms taking up half the bed and he practically glowed orange against the white sheets. “Yeah. Yeah, I could try that.”

He smiled with nervous energy and shifted back into his place on his side of the bed, and lay back. I reached for my wand to _Nox_ the lights.

“-Harry, wait. Why not leave the light on? Maybe if you can really see what’s in front of you, you won’t slip into that dark, scary place again.”

I cringed at the thought of doing _stuff_ , under full light, but his proposal sounded reasonable.

“O-okay.” I nodded. The distance between us felt awkward but knowing that he wasn’t going to reach out to me, helped urge me on. I had to have looked as ridiculous as I felt crawling over to him, and then over top of him, putting my knees on either side of one of his thighs and planting my hands outside of his ribs.

I was looking at this expanse of young man stretched out under me and I was overwhelmed at where to begin. I has some idea of a few places I’d like to focus on but it hardly seemed right to jump right on them.

“How about just starting with a kiss?” His suggestion rescued me from having to decide.

I launched clumsily at his face, thrusting my tongue at him and putting my anxiety into it. He was kind enough to let me assault his mouth for a moment before making a quiet noise and turning away.

“Okay, wait,” he said with a mild chuckle, licking his lips. “How about something a little gentler?”

Oh fuck me, where’s a Death Eater to AK you when you need one?

“Just, maybe a little bit, like,” he said leaning up slightly, “like this.” He licked my upper lip slowly with the tip of his tongue. It wasn’t at all slobbery like I thought it would be.

So I followed his lead and tested his tongue with my own. I had always thought snogging was supposed to be strong and full-mouthed and _wet_ , but this was almost ticklish and was the gentlest intimacy I’d ever really felt. My heart swelled with emotion and other things began to swell as well. The small licks and sucking kisses were addicting and we must have spent several minutes like that, our whole mouths never completely touching.

When I got breathless I could pull away and relax and was greeted with Ron’s patient smile.

“How’s that? Not too much?” he asked.

“No, I like that – _a lot_.” We sniggered together and then he stretched and flexed his arms out to the side and settled his hands on the bed again.

“I’d like - but only you want - you could try touching me now?” He blushed and looked down and seemed to itch for it.

I started with his hair. Brushing the fringe off his forehead, which promptly fell back into his eyes and I tucked a lock of it behind his ear. Ron closed his eyes and leaned into my hand like a dog does to encourage more petting. I’d rubbed his shoulders many times before, but always over a t-shirt. Now I had bare skin to feel under my fingers. He was soft under his earlobes and neck, then the long firm bones of his collarbones, and down the center of his chest where I swirled the fine red hairs. Without thinking much about it, rubbed a circle over one nipple and Ron took a quick breath and his body flexed. If I had realized how _sexual_ that was, I probably wouldn’t have done it, but seeing that he liked it so much drove me to do it again.

Then I just _had_ to trace the same path with my lips and was down to his navel before I realized it and still wasn’t the least bit nervous.

I wanted more.

“I want more,” I said somewhere near his hipbone, surprised at the husky sound of my own voice.

“You can have it. Anything you want, cause I assure you, I want it too.” He was tensing and squirming and had a fist full of bed sheet in each hand, trying not to touch me. “ … but no hurry,” he added, with a whimper.

Shifting myself fully between his legs and sitting back on my heels I started at his knees this time. My hands ran up both his thighs simultaneously, trying to feel everything; the way his hairs got softer as my hands went higher and the flexing tendons in his hamstrings.

He was biting his lip and had the same happily pained look on his face he had when we found Dark Chocolate Frogs with Fireliqueur in them. I wondered briefly what I had ever been nervous about. Crouching between Ron’s parted knees I had to reach down and adjust myself, palming pressure against my erection, squeezing my balls and it was clear that he needed the same attention.

My hand hesitated over the white cotton that his cock was straining against. He sat forward and took my hand, first kissing it and then my lips. Holding my hand against his chest he bent to nuzzle his temple against mine.

“No hurry, Harry. Whatever you _want_ , that’s all that matters to me. Taking care of you.”

I enjoyed his closeness for a minute before I moved my hand down his long torso and put my hand on him. He was long and hard and I tested different ways of touching him while he made little breathy noises.

“You like this?” I asked, my forehead resting in the curve of his neck and shoulder while I watched my hand touch him. He nodded over me and dropped his hand near mine and pulled the waistband of his pants away from his body. Just as we always worked well together, I reached inside and took his heat and strength and length in my hand.

Ron trailed light fingertips over my hand as I began stroking him, and continued running them up my pumping arm, over my shoulder and up into my hair.

“Are, you, okay?” he whimpered as he held me lightly. “Only if you want to.”

“I’m good. I just want to do this right.”

This part is when I start getting fuzzy, because there was more kissing and he kept asking if I was alright, and I kept telling him I _was_. I suppose he wanted to be sure I wasn’t going to have a sudden attack of hiccoughs or head butt him in the lip.

I watched him push his underwear off and since I generally do everything that Ron does, I did the same. I guess it would have been easier to just attack him and roll around, but we went slowly. We took our time amid giggles, looking at each other, naked for the purpose of getting off for the first time. I felt self conscious and inadequate at the first, but he immediately made me feel better.

“You’re so attractive. I’m lucky to have you,” he said.

There was one crystal clear moment after he stretched back out and I crawled over him that I lowered my weight onto him felt our bare skin touching from thigh to shoulder. It was electrifying.

I wish I could say that our first time continued with slow touching and giggles but by that point I was filled more _want_ than I was fear. Ron’s large hands never held me too rough or too long. Arching and flexing and thrusting our cocks together was something that came naturally and the feeling it made me happy, not scared. He was hot and hard, and sweaty and soft in all the same places I was.

“Keep your eyes open,” he whispered when I began losing myself thrusting against him.

“Right, yeah.”

He bent and opened his knees so that I felt the bottoms of his feet resting along the backs of my thighs.

“So, there’s lots of ways we can do this now,” he muttered with great difficulty. “You’ll have me soon like this, but, if you want …”

“You really want to?” I admit to a moment of panic. “I’m not sure I’m ready for-”

“I _want_ to have you inside of me. Won’t be uncomfortable for you at all. –If you want to.”

“You really want me?” I know, I was repeating myself, but I just couldn’t believe how casual he was about it.

“Of course I want you. I love you. I’ve been fucked by loads of people but never by someone who loved me.”

He reached for his wand and _Accioed_ his trousers, which had a tube of lubricant in it.

“I can’t believe you carry that around with you,” I said, trying to imagine what kind of sex emergency might occur to warrant carrying lube at all times.

He just shrugged and sniggered. “Well, the magical kind isn’t as slippery, so I’d rather be prepared.”

As he was now slowly stroking me with the wet stuff, I wasn’t inclined to question him. I watched as he rubbed the rest of it into arse crack and slowly tested a finger inside himself, smiling when I whimpered.

“Do you wanna take your glasses off?” he asked, and I nodded yes.

He took them off for me, kissed me and set them right next to his pillow.

“They’re right here if you want them. Now, come here,” he lay back held his arms out to me, so that I walked my knees up to his arse. I bit my lip, thinking if he could be this open to me, and let me see him like this, then he really must trust me.

Taking a hold of my slippery cock I nudged clumsily, sliding too far.

He clamped his hand over mine. “Don’t worry about being too gentle, just push.”

What I thought was really going to be asking too much, suddenly just _worked_ as I slid inside.

“Perfect, nice and easy at first, don’t be afraid,” he muttered breathlessly.

The felt heat run down the back of my spine and settle into my balls and I thrust involuntarily.

He let out a happy sounding grunt and then giggled at whatever sound I must have made.

“Come here, come closer,” he said, hooking his ankles behind my waist and urging me on top of him.

“Don’t think I can move,” I gasped as I shifted my weight.

“Yes, you can.” He pulled on my arse and felt myself settle deeper into him and we both groaned.

“This is… this is…” I tried.

“Yeah, I know.” Ron turned my face and kissed me sweetly. “When you start moving, it’ll feel even better.”

So then I was trying to move. I remember testing my weight on my knees and my toes and hands and elbows, all the way pulling away and pushing into him again.

“I can’t. I can’t… I’m gonna,” I tried to warn him, not at all pleased with the octave of my voice.

He’d been stroking himself all along but started really working in earnest as he tugged.

“Don’t hold back, Harry,” he said, with a gasp. “Let yourself go, come now, we’ll do it together.”

I watched as long as I could, which wasn’t very long at all, and the wave of climax hit me, making me buck and whimper, feeling him clench around my cock and his warmth spill between us. The sound of our bodies and voices, and the movement of the bed and smell of us together was, well, something I could definitely get used to.

I collapsed on top of him breathing hard and feeling his light touch on my damp back.

“Ron,” I said, muffled into his chest. “You can hold me tighter now. I’m alright.”

He made a satisfied sounding rumble in his throat, and he wrapped me up tight, and warm and close and I sighed.

I had finally done it. I’d finally had sex, felt happy and tired. And not the least bit anxious.

“Thanks for not ditching me.”

He snickered. “Never would.”

“Love you,” I whispered.

“Hmm, hmm, you too.”

“I’m tired,” I said with a yawn.

“Yeah, that happens. Rest a little bit,” he rubbed up and down the back of my neck. “Then later we’ll wash up and celebrate with some Frog Launching.”

~^~


End file.
